Why Eavesdropping Never Solves Anything
by EstellaB
Summary: Experiment House is having a dance. It should be easy enough to find an escort. Just go with your best mate. Right? Er, no... [Rated extremely mild T, for safety]
1. Chapter 1

**Why Eavesdropping Never Solved Anything**

**Experiment House is having a dance. It should be easy enough to find an escort. Just go with your best mate. Right? Er, no...**

**Just a short piece of pleasant nonsense... inspired by a strange dream and the lack of a date for my leavers' ball. Enjoy! (Oh, and the rating is just in case, depending on what your opinion of the word "prat" is).**

"...Because," Eustace was explaining, astounded that she didn't get it. "He's a complete toad. Besides, he only asked you because Tate wouldn't go with him. The way he talks about girls is something to behold! Pole, you _know_what lads like that are like. You can't go to the dance with him."

"I'll jolly well go with whom I please," Jill replied tartly, stung by that comment about Tate (probably because it was true). "He's the first person to ask me to anything at all, and I'm jolly well going. Besides, I don't recall needing _your _permission to do anything."

"But-" Eustace began to snap back, then he waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, if you really can't see anything wrong with it, it's _your_choice. Perhaps if you're that daft, that much of an ass that you can't see what's in front of your own face, the two of you are more suited to each other than I thought." He made it sound as if she were choosing to have herself assassinated.

She didn't have a chance to contradict him, because he stormed off, but she thought she heard him muttering something under his breath. She rolled her eyes. Scrubb could be _so _very immature at times.

"You should have heard him, though, Tate!" Jill complained. "He was so... _childish_." She scowled.

That was approximately the sixth time Jill had rehashed the conversation in front of her friend, so Sarah Tate was beginning to feel as if she actually had heard Scrubb's allegedly immature objections. Privately, she thought the lad might have a point, but she knew where her loyalties were supposed to lie. She tutted in sympathetic agreement.

"I can't believe that he said that Townsfeld only asked me to the Christmas dance because he couldn't go with you!" Jill continued to rant. "It might be true," she added reflectively, "but it was hardly very kind."

"Scrubb is an idiot," Tate soothed her, wondering what she would wear to the dance herself if Peterson ever asked her. Maybe she and Pole would need to go shopping next week... if her friend _promised _not to bring this conversation up again, that was.

"He isn't though, that's the thing." Jill was musing by this point, not really angry any more. "I don't know what would make him say a daft thing like that, something he knew was going to upset me, when he isn't actually an idiot. I don't think he was purposefully trying to hurt my feelings."

"Well, I think he liked Townsfeld enough before the poor chap made the mistake of asking you to the dance," Tate suggested, unsubtly.

"Are you implying that asking me to the dance is an act of such great stupidity that-" Jill began hotly. Were _both _of her friends conspiring to upset him?

"No." Tate rolled her eyes. "What I mean is-who would you have been going to the dance with if Townsfeld hasn't asked you?"

"Well... Scrubb."

"Maybe he was only being an ass because he was disappointed." Even Pole had to understand that. Tate hoped so, anyway.

"But..." Jill thought on that for a minute or two. "Are you implying that Eustace is _jealous_?" She didn't notice that she'd said his Christian name.

Tate did. She laughed. "_There_ it is!"

"That's ridiculous," Jill replied firmly.

"Maybe. But don't you think it's just possible that, since he always goes to the end-of-term dances with you, his best friend, that maybe, just maybe, he's been led-probably against his will-to have feelings for you that are something more than that?"

Jill went a fetching shade of scarlet. "That" she said sternly, "is even_more _preposterous. If you'll excuse me, I have Latin prep. to finish. I have to go to the library."

She gathered up some miscellaneous books from her bed, very few of which had to do with Latin or even classes at all, and left the room crossly. Tate sighed. Pole was even more clueless than Scrubb. Intervention was needed.

Eustace walked along the corridor in his and Jill's favourite corner of school, hands thrust deep in pockets, alternately scowling and glowering. Idiot! Girls were all idiots, every single blasted one of them. Townsfeld of all people! Not that he was jealous, or anything of the sort, of course; it was just, well, Townsfeld was such a toad when it came to girls-which Pole _knew _perfectly well-she was bound to end up hurt and disappointed. He frowned deeply at a portrait of the school's interestingly batty founder. And then trying to mend her self-esteem-which, let's not forget, was shaky anyway at the best of times-was going to fall for who? Him! Eustace Clarence Scrubb! Jill's stupidity was making more work for him. None of it would be necessary if she had followed her usual policy of going with him. And really, what was wrong with him? Exactly! Nothing!

"If you ask Pole to the dance, she won't go with Townsfeld," a voice interrupted his thoughts, which was probably a good thing.

"Oh, of course she will, Tate," Scrubb replied. "And I don't care."

"Really? Because you know Townsfeld's reputation with the girls. Are you sure you don't mind Pole's heart being broken? She's only going with him because you haven't asked her yet."

"I can go with someone else. I don't mind." Eustace minded terribly. "And what makes you so sure she would go with me?" It was very difficult to sound as if he weren't interested in that answer. Oh, hang it. Tate probably knew anyway. She was good at things like that.

"Let me think about it." Tate held her hands out in front of her like a pair of scales. "Smarmy prat who's known to be a womanising heartbreaker. Tactless but loveable best friend." She grinned. "Tricky one. Just ask her. Now. Before she falls in love with Townsfeld." Not that that would ever happen. Pole was too busy being sweet on Scrubb to bother with anybody else, but fuelling a little jealousy never hurt.

"Pole wouldn't fall in love with Townsfeld," Scrubb retorted, worried. "She's got far too much sense." He bit his lip, suddenly looking vulnerable. "You really think I should ask her to go with me to the dance?"

"Of course!" Tate broke into an enormous smile. "I'll see you there." Impulsively, she lent forward and pecked him on the cheek. Eustace blushed reflexively. He wondered where he would be able to find Pole.

Jill tugged the end of her plait impatiently. She hated her plaits. For crying out loud, she was jolly nearly sixteen! Far too old for them. Eustace had once said that they suited her, but he was only being nice, of course. She felt horribly guilty. He had been right, of course; Townsfeld wasn't a very nice chap. The idea of actually being the one to apologise after one of their daft arguments was humbling, but that was exactly what she was intending to do, and then she would ask Scrubb to take her to the dance. Just as a friend, of course. Though-Lucy had been most insistent that she'd be welcoming Jill into the family one day, and now Tate... No, that was as stupid as she had told Tate, and she was _glad. _She had no intention of being sweet on Eustace. None at all, so that little voice in her head could certainly be quiet. Pax. Now she was talking to herself, and it was all _Scrubb's_fault.

What if he did, though? Taking a wild flight of fancy, if one day Eustace were to drop a hint along those lines... what would that be like? Of course, Eustace was far too, well, _Scrubb _to ever say anything. She was being ridiculous-but, maybe, just maybe, if Eustace was sweet on her-maybe she would think about feeling the same way. She rounded the corner and saw him talking to Tate. She-

Prat!

Eustace was asking Tate to the dance!

"-go with me to the dance?" she overheard him saying.

Well, it was a good thing she hadn't told Townsfeld she wouldn't be going with him yet. At least Tate would say no-but she could hardly ask Eustace-_Scrubb-_herself now, because she would be second choice.

"Of course!"

What? Why, why, what had she missed? Tate wasn't supposed to say yes! What about everything they'd talked about earlier? Tate had talked her into maybe, possibly thinking that she might feel certain things-and then she said yes!

"I'll see you there," Tate added, and she leant over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Scrubb blushed.

Oh, good grief. She was actually _flirting _with him. That was low. She couldn't compete with Tate anyway, let alone a flirting, smiling Tate. And Eustace was blushing.

Well, at least she wasn't jealous. Though, if this wasn't jealousy, jealousy must feel_truly _awful. It was good that Scrubb and Tate were going to the dance together. Perfectly nice.

He was coming over to talk to her. Tate was beaming in the corner.

"Pole! I wanted to talk to you! I need to; I mean, I want to; I mean, this dance-"

"Oh, yes," Jill replied breezily. _Not jealous at all. _"I overheard."

Eustace blanched. "Er, you did?"

"Of course you can go to the dance with Tate! I can't believe you wanted to ask me! It's very sweet, but remember, I have an escort already."

Scrubb looked horribly confused. "Um, actually-"

"Have a good time." She grinned brightly. "I'll just be off to do my Latin, then. Bye." She walked off-she almost flounced. Eustace was even more confused. Jill never _flounced._

And, if anybody noticed that Pole spent half an hour punching her pillow and muttering "Prat!" before she went to sleep that night, well, nobody said anything.

Drat! I wanted it to end happier than that. I'm not really very happy with this-I need constructive criticism so review please! Oh yeah-this belongs to CSL, not me. Please don't sue...


	2. Chapter 2

**The conclusion! I hope you all like it. I'm sorry if Jill seems a little bit rambly. It was just the way my muse wanted her to be written.**

**Oh, and I hope my explanations of the dance make it less canon-stretching. And I still don't own it.**

**Enjoy!**

Jill was already having an unpleasant time, and the dance hadn't even started yet.

For one thing, Townsfeld had been late picking her up. Tate had left with Scrubb twenty minutes before he'd even bothered to knock on the dorm door. She had been beginning to worry that she would be stuck in her room all evening, dressed to the nines for no reason. Doing the Latin prep. that she'd never done the other day, despite using it as an excuse so often. It had been a relief when she'd heard him knock.

It hadn't been a relief for long, though. From the moment when he'd first laid eyes on her, Townsfeld's eyes had been roaming. "You look beautiful, Jill," he'd said (Jill? _Jill? _She'd been offended.Out of all her friends-even Tate-the only one to whom the privilege of her Christian name was afforded was Eustace-and then only sometimes!). Beautiful, he'd said, but he wasn't giving very good proof of his words. Right now, he was watching Tate laughing with Scrubb across the room. Jill was as well-but only because Townsfeld wasn't paying her any attention. _Jill? _She tried to remember his first name. She wondered if she'd ever known it. It was a horrible mistake to have come with him. She would have been better off doing that Latin after all.

And then it got worse.

Not too much worse, admittedly, at least to start with. The music started-the school orchestra were playing a rather whiny waltz-and Jill perked up. She'd always loved the obligatory dance classes they took-the dance classes that were the real reason behind this formal; it was really a kind of glorified exam, though much more fun-although she'd never danced with anyone but Scrubb in those lessons. It was just easier that way. Her foot began tapping.

"Like dancing?" Townsfeld asked.

It was hardly Keats, but it would do. "I love it," she replied. Hurrah! She was going to have her first dance-her first _real, _non-Scrubb dance.

"Me too," he replied comfortably, still looking at Tate. "I'm going to go and ask her." He nodded in the direction of his gaze. "Have fun."

This was worse than being called Jill. Ten times worse. It was the first dance, and she was left on her own, totally humiliated. Her escort was asking somebody else to dance. She was really that unappealing.

Oh, and then Scrubb had to go and start dancing with Tate.

Eustace was a good dancer. She might be illogically angry with him (she wasn't exactly sure _why _she and Scrubb were quarrelling at the moment, but they hadn't spoken at dinner) but she had to give him credit. He was a much better dancer than most of the lads were. Not as good as Townsfeld or Peterson, but really quite good. Much better than Harris or Smythe or Meyers.

Townsfeld didn't even come and ask her to dance when he saw that Tate was taken. He asked Pennyfeather instead.

Well, so much for that.

The second dance might actually have been worse, she thought, though it was hard to decide. The heat was becoming oppressive, and the room was full to bursting with dancing couples. It was giving her a headache. Townsfeld hadn't spoken to her since they had arrived, either. He was not put off by the fact that Tate was dancing with Scrubb again. He waltzed calmly up to Morris and cut in on him.

When Jackle came by, dancing with a sixth-former, she sneered. "All alone, Pole? Even that pansy Scrubb has abandoned you this time. Knew he'd see sense in the end."

"Scrubb isn't a pansy," Jill contradicted her halfheartedly, but Jackle had been swept into the crowds again. With her sixth-former.

The worst part about the whole ordeal was that this was a glorified _exam._ She wasn't going to leave and miss out on the mark for her dance classes, because she knew that she was good at them. It always gave her a little thrill to see a perfect school report, and she didn't intend to miss out on it. If somebody didn't ask her soon (she'd given up on Townsfeld, and as for Scrubb...) then she'd go and ask Peterson, who seemed sad that Tate wasn't dancing with him.

Sometimes, Jill hated being in a co-ed school. It was all too dramatic.

It was the third dance. _Right. _She couldn't stand Peterson, but this was it. She marched up to him-he was leaning against the wall, and watching Scrubb and Tate with a melancholy look. "Dance with me," she instructed. "At least we'll get our marks. And then I'm jolly well leaving."

Peterson looked ever so slightly happier. "If you want," he replied, and so they were off.

Dancing with Peterson wasn't so bad in itself. He was a very nice dancer. A bit feminine, maybe. Jill felt a little bad to start with-this was _Tate's _Peterson, after all-but then she caught sight of Eustace and Tate dancing together _again. _Suddenly her feelings of guilt all (well, mostly) disappeared. It wasn't that she was jealous of Tate, it was just that after all that effort on Tate's behalf to talk her into thinking about Scrubb, for that girl to then go and dance _three dances _with that lad seemed oddly like a betrayal.

Still, though, this was Peterson. She sighed. It wasn't fair to do this to Tate.

"I've decided I don't care so much about my marks after all," Jill said, breaking the stony silence that had fallen. Dancing with Peterson had been horrible anyway, despite what she'd tried to convince herself. He was too tall, that was the thing. It was strange to be dancing with somebody other than Scrubb. "Excuse me. I think I need to go outside." She dropped her hands to her sides, and began walking off. Marks weren't everything, after all. It wasn't as if Cambridge was going to check her mark for fifth-form Formal Dance when she applied. She hoped. The door of the Big Hall was open, stagnant heat and too-bright light pooling on the temptingly cool, dark lawn.

"Er-Pole?" Jill turned back. Peterson was following her with a strange combination of bewilderment and relief on his face. "It's, er, cold. Do you need my, er, coat or something?" Bless. It was quite sweet really, that he was bothering at all. After all, he wasn't her beau-Townsfeld was supposed to be. Peterson barely knew her, except as Tate's less attractive friend.

"You don't have to worry about me, Peterson," she replied tiredly. "I hope you have a good evening." She stepped out into the abysmally cold Quad.

It was all daft, really, this whole beau thing. Scrubb had been right in the first place (which was incredibly exasperating). Townsfeld had abandoned her, Peterson had trodden on her toes, and most sadly, Eustace had ignored her completely. She hoped that this silly dance incident didn't do any permanent damage to her friendship with him. It would be just her luck, of course, in the same way that it was just her luck that her two friends were dancing so happily together. Scrubb had asked Tate. And she was happy for them.

Really.

"Peterson and I agreed to swap partners." She jumped, visibly, blushing as if he had been eavesdropping on her private thoughts. How long had he been standing there? She glanced up at him, standing a few feet away on what he presumably hoped was neutral ground. He looked very sheepish. "We agreed that we would both enjoy ourselves much more that way. How can you bear to spend so much time with Tate? She doesn't have a serious thought in her head."

That wasn't true, and she rebuked him, but with a light heart. The sudden presence of one friend meant that the injustice towards the other could be ignored. At least for now. Eustace never meant things like that anyway. "You were right," she admitted. "I never should have come with Townsfeld. He _is_ a toad."

Eustace scowled ferociously. "If I'd known he was going to abandon you like that, I would have made my objections much more loudly. Are you-did you-he didn't hurt your feelings too much."

It was phrased as a statement, not a question. Jill had to laugh. Good old awkward Scrubb. "I was never really that keen on him. Honestly, Scrubb."

"Then why did you come to the dance with him?"

Hypocritical git! "Well, why did you come to the dance with someone who, and I quote 'hasn't a serious thought in her head'?" Jill retorted sharply.

"I-oh bother. I have made a right pig's ear of this, haven't I?" He sighed, and gathered his (somewhat faded and threadbare) courage in both hands. "I only came to the dance with her because, well, because, well, oh bother. Because my stupid pride wouldn't let me be second choice to the person I really wanted to ask." He looked away, but she could still see him turn pink.

"And who was that?" she asked-because there had been too many misunderstanding already, and she didn't want to add this to the list.

Though if he said Jackle, _she would kill him._

"Well." Eustace was still looking determinedly at the ground. He didn't answer her question, but instead-"There's a new song playing now." Jill nodded. He looked up at her, and suddenly the whole stupid dance debacle didn't matter any more. He grinned and held out his hand. "May I have the pleasure?"


End file.
